Stories of Dusk
by Spades And Swords
Summary: Simon just wants to be able to take care of little Marceline. But is that enough to protect her from the bitter cold of the night?


_**Disclaimer : All characters belong to Joss Whedon.**_

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Night would fall soon, and they still hadn't found a shelter. Lately, the cold that accompanied the stars and the moon was unbearably cold. For Simon, it wasn't stronger than a cool breeze, but for little Marceline, it was much worse.

_'She never complains about the cold.'_ Simon thought, looking at the little girl who was holding his hand. She felt his gaze and smiled at him. Simon smiled back, although deep inside him, he felt he had no real reason to do so._ 'My brave little Marceline.'_

Would she feel his hand just as cold as was the night?

Probably, but Marceline never let go of Simon's hand unless it was absolutely necessary. Truth was , that Simon did not mind. On the contrary , he thought her warmth was comforting.

Perhaps, in a way, his cold was just as comforting for Marceline as her warmth was for him.

_'Maybe that's how we realize we are not alone. Everyone's gone, but I'm here with her ,and she is here with me.'_

Simon knelt and carried the little girl on his arms. He felt how Marceline shivered at the contact with his ice-cold skin, but she soon surrounded Simon's neck with her arms, no longer minding the cold.

"I'm sleepy, Simon." Marceline said,as Simon began to walk again. Marceline leaned her head on Simon's shoulder and hugged his trusty teddy bear Hambo "Tell us another of your stories, Simon. One about your adventures and expeditions. But not one that is boring, or Hambo will have nightmares."

Simon laughed softly at the request of the girl.

"I'm afraid I've run out of good stories, Marceline."

It was true. He had told all the little anecdotes that a girl her age might find entertaining. Furthermore, Marceline was quite picky about the stories she was told.

If Simon's stories turned out to be too complex or sweet , Marceline would inmediatly qualify them as boring.

"Make up one, then." suggested the girl, sounding more tired than before, but she wasn't going to fall asleep until Simon had told her a story "Don't be lazy, Simon."

"All right, little one. I'll try." Simon agreed, while Marceline smiled triumphantly. Simon could be the best archeologist in the world , but he doubted of his abilities as an author.

At the same time, how difficult could it be to create a bedtime story for a six years old girl?

"Let's see ... Once upon a time, there was a princess ... "

"Hambo says that story is silly and boring." Marceline interrupted unabashedly.

Simon couldn't believe it. He hadn't even said ten words and Marceline had already rejected the story.

_'This is harder than I thought.'_

He knew Marceline wasn't very fond on stories about of princesses, but he couldn't think of another way to start an invented story, specially one for a little child.

Before he could make another attempt, he saw the ruins of what had once been a house. But unlike the rest, that one still had three of the four walls, and almost half of the roof appeared to be intact. It wasn't exactly the most welcoming shelter , but he and Marceline could spend the night there. And with the backing of the walls, maybe he could even build a campfire. The last time he was able to build one had been weeks ago, when the winds weren't so strong and the night wasn't so cold.

_'The fire will protect Marceline from the cold.'_

Once inside the half-destroyed house, Simon gently put Marceline down . The girl was still sleepy, and her first reaction once she put her feet on the ground was to hold Simon's hand.

"Just one moment, Marceline."Simon said ]softly "I'm going to try to build a campfire first."

"Really?" Marceline was very happy to hear those news. "Hambo says that means we must have marshmellows for dinner!"

"It looks like Hambo has forgotten that marshmellows are just for dessert, not for dinner ." said Simon.

"Simon is silly."

"Is that what Hambo says?"

"No, that's what I say."

Simon smiled and ruffled Marceline's hair. The laughter of the girl was comforting for him.

Then, Marceline let Simon work and went to a corner , where she started to play with Hambo.

Simon decided he would fulfill the little's girl childish wish. It was the least he could do for her.

_'As strong she tries to be, she still is just a little child.'_ Simon thought as he watched her play, and for a second, he felt how tears began to sting in his eyes _'She shouldn't be here with me ... I'm just an old man who travels back and forth aimlessly. She should be with her parents. She should be at her home. She should be laughing, playing. She shouldn't have worries such as wondering if she will have eaten something by the end of the day. She's just a little child, damn it! "_

He felt sadness, but mostly, he felt hatred. A hatred so deep that it dyed his soul, just as dark ink on a cloth.

The war. All because of that cursed war!

It was at that moment when the crown hanging from his belt jingled.

Marceline could feel Simon's anguish , and she quickly ran towards him without a second thought. She was scared and at the verge of tears. Simon tried to tell her to stay away, but he was already too immersed in his hatred and pain. His mind was no longer under his control.

The cold had arrived, and it was more frigid than ever.

_'It took everything away from me. My life, my future, my Betty ... It's not fair, not fair ...'_

"Not fair ... not fair ... " Simon whispered, clenching both fists and teeth. He managed to bite his lip, and a thin line of blood began to drip from his chin "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Simon, what's wrong?! " Marceline shouted, holding his arm. "Stop, please, you're scaring me! SOMEBODY,ANYBODY! HELP SIMON!"

But they were all alone. Nobody would come to her aid.

The sky above them suddenly clouded , and the wind howled so hard and so cold that Marceline thought she would freeze to death right there, holding Simon's arm.

But she didn't worried about that. The one thing she worried about in that moment was Simon, her only friend.

"Help ...!"

"Shut up, you stupid brat. No one can hear you screaming in this destroyed world!"

The next thing Marceline felt was how Simon slapped her in the cheek, so strongly it almost felt like a punch. The blow made her fall on her back ,and soon she also had a thin line of blood dripping from her chin.

She felt how her cheek began to swell, but Marceline didn't cry. Nor shouted anymore.

The confusion and bewilderment made her believe that it was all just a horrible nightmare.

Why had Simon hit her? Had she done something wrong?

Did Simon no longer wanted her around?

Unable to hold on for one more second, Marceline finally allowed herself to cry . She felt no pain or cold, and yet, she could not stop her tears. Knowing that Simon didn't love her anymore hurt more than any slap.

Simon's eyes were two pits of unlimited hate. Around him, the cold was so extreme that small ice crystals had begun to form. His heart was beating so fast the veins on his neck and temple were as visible as the old roots of a tree. His teeth looked like fangs.

But when he saw how tears were streaming down Marceline's face, he came back to his senses. The frigid cold and hatred began to dissipate, and the crown hanging from his belt unpinned. It jingled again when it kissed the ground.

"What ...what happened?" His head hurt so much that Simon thought it would tear in half, and his mouth had the coppery taste of blood. But the worst part was the terror that overcame him when he saw little Marcline lying on the floor crying and with a bloody chin "No ... What have I done?"

Simon slowly approached Marceline with discrete steps. When he was at her side, he tenderly picked her up.

He wiped the blood from the girl's chin with his thump. And then, he hugged her.

The girl had stopped crying, but now, it was Simon who couldn't stop his tears.

"I'm sorry, little Marceline ...I didn't meant to. I'm sorry... Please forgive me, please forgive me..." Simon tears looked like small droplets of ice.

_'It's happening again. No,please,no... I've already lost Betty. I don't want to lose Marceline too...'_

He lost count of how many times he apologized to Marceline, and the time he spent hugging the little girl in that cold night seemed eternal.

Both half-covered by the moonlight.

The last two souls on Earth.

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The fire was still burning, but the only warmth Simon felt was that of the little girl who was dozing in his lap, hugging her teddy bear Hambo.

The flames helped Simon to clarify his thoughts.

He had lost control again. And what was worse: this time, he had hurt Marceline.

The little girl insisted that her swollen cheek didn't hurt at all ,but Simon knew she was lying. The poor girl hadn't even been able to eat due the pain.

_'I can't take her of her anymore.'_ That thought alone was enough to break Simon's heart, but more important than his pain was Marceline's safety_ 'Next time ,it will be worse...My poor and brave little Marceline, what will happen to you if that happens?."_

However, considering the option of abandoning Marceline was equally unbereable.

_'No. There won't be a next time. I won't let the ice and cold hurt you again. I promise you, Marceline.'_

Just as he had promised Betty?

"Simon..."

The girl's voice took him away from his thoughts and returned Simon to reality.

"What is it, little one? You can't sleep?." Simon asked tenderly,acomodating the blanket that covered Marceline.

She nodded.

_'Me too,Marceline.'_

Marceline curled and closed her eyes again.

"Tell me the story. The one you were telling before. The one about the princess." Marceline said.

"But I thought Hambo said it was a silly and boring story ... "

"It doesn't matter. I want to hear it." Marceline insisted.

Simon couldn't refuse. The flames twitched and they were about to succumb to the cold wind, but they managed to stand firm. They would drive the cold away from some more time.

_'I must also be firm and brave. For you, my brave little Marceline ... For you.'_ Simon thought, just before he started telling the story once again. Which, after all, may not necessarily had to be ficticious.

"It's about a princess." Simon muttured "Her name was Betty ..."

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**_Thanks for Reading!_**


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